


Said the Spider to the Fly

by darkandstormyslash



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brainwashing, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Modern Era, Prison, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, set post-reek, theon is not as recovered as he thinks he is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkandstormyslash/pseuds/darkandstormyslash
Summary: From a prompt by @HappyDagger: Theon visits Ramsay in prison, with the safety of three inch thick plexiglass between them, maybe he can get some of the closure his well-meaning rehab counselor says he deserves
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Reek, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52
Collections: Thramsay2020 Kinkmeme Event





	Said the Spider to the Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HappyDagger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDagger/gifts).



“You don’t have to do this.” Jon says. A small, mean-spirited part of Theon thinks it’s a bit late for him to be saying it as they actually walk into the prison. “After what he did to you, you don’t owe him anything.”

Just the sight of the guards at the prison entrance is enough to start Theon shaking. Slowly he takes deep breaths, trying to stick to healthy calming strategies. “It’s not for him, it’s for me. The woman - the counselor woman - she says it’ll be good for me to face him. To see him trapped in prison where he - where he belongs.”

The words sound fake and strange in his ears. He knows they’re true, Ramsay does belong in prison. They just don’t sound  _ right _ .

Jon’s hand rests gently at the small of his back. It should ground him, but instead it makes Theon feel bizarrely unreal. He feels like he’s floating about half a meter behind himself, watching Jon’s hand on his back, watching the guard unlock the door and gesture him through, watching his own feet walk haltingly into the visiting area.

Where Ramsay is waiting.

There are other prisoners there too, each sitting in a little booth with their visitors in front of them. All Theon sees is Ramsay. He’s cuffed to the chair, safely surrounded by three inches of plexiglass, and he radiates a deep and dangerous aura of menace.

Theon doesn’t know how he gets from the door to the seat in front of Ramsay. Maybe he walks. Maybe he stumbles. Maybe he floats, magnetically drawn by the dark shadow of a man who seems to fill the whole room. There’s silence between them when he finally sits down. Ramsay breaks it first, raising a hand and pressing the palm of it against the plexiglass. “Reek. My Reek.”

His voice is low and soft. It shudders into the depths of Theon’s mind, filling the space there. He can feel the shaky little attempts he’s made at rebuilding his own self start to tremble. There are tears threatening at his eyes.

“What have you brought me Reek?”

Immediately Theon’s mind scurries into panic. He didn’t know he was supposed to bring anything. His eyes fix on Ramsay’s, terrified and wide. “I-I…” 

A guard walks behind him, baton tapping against his boot. The sound momentarily knocks him back to sanity. Ramsay is in prison, and can’t hurt him anymore. Theon glances back at the door to look at Jon, standing with crossed arms and a scowl. He looks angry about something, and Theon wilts.

“Look at me Reek.”

Theon’s head snaps back to face Ramsay.

“That’s better.” Ramsay’s lips stretch out into a wide smile. Nervously, Theon gives a small answering one back. Maybe he hasn’t done so badly. Maybe Ramsay isn’t angry at him.

Ramsay’s voice drops, and Theon has to lean forward to listen to it. “Reek, tell me. Don’t lie to me. Are you still mine, Reek?”

“I-I…I’m not Reek…”

Ramsay’s head jerks towards Jon, “Does he fuck you?”

“What! No!”

“Good. That’s good Reek. Keep looking at me. I miss you Reek. I wish you were in here with me. Don’t you?”

Dumbly, Theon shakes his head. The thought of prison is terrifying. Almost as terrifying as the thought of Ramsay. A small frown of displeasure creases in Ramsay’s forehead and Theon shivers. 

“I just … I wouldn’t want to be in prison, Rams.”

“I wish I could touch you Reek.”

Carefully lifting one hand, Theon places it against the glass opposite Ramsay’s. It’s as close as they can get here. Next to Ramsay’s big paw, Theon’s skinny and broken fingers look wretched, taking up less than half the space of the hand on the other side. Pressed together with the glass between them, Theon can’t help but feel a strange sort of tug. Ramsay could be kind, sometimes. Nowadays, nobody is even remotely kind to him. Nobody smiles at him, or treats him specially. He’s just a weird damaged kid who tags around with an increasingly busy Jon Snow. Nowadays, Jon is too busy with his own issues to deal with Theon’s, and Jon’s problems are exponentially multiplying every day.

The smile is back, and Theon lets his own mouth gently twitch up again. 

“You’re pretending to be Theon again, aren’t you Reek?” Slowly, Theon nods in response, “I thought you were. You always do, if you spend too long away from me. Why do you do it? I’m not angry, just curious.” Ramsay hesitates, “Well I am angry, Reek, I am very, very, angry. But I’m also curious. Are there people who love Theon?”

Theon’s eyes drop to his lap. “No…”

“Look at me Reek. That’s better. Is there anyone who even  _ likes _ Theon?”

“I-I ... no. Not really.”

“No. Does anybody even  _ want _ Theon? If you ran away tomorrow, would anyone care?”

It would be easier if Ramsay were wrong. If there was somebody,  _ anybody, _ Theon could think of who doesn’t view him as a burden. “Jon would … Jon would look for me…”

“Don’t….” Ramsay’s voice is low and filled with loathing. “Don’t you  _ ever _ compare the misguided duty that useless shit feels, for the way I love you Reek.”

“I-please Rams…”

“Who are you?”

“Jon would - Jon has…”

Ramsay’s hand curls into a fist against the glass and Theon stares at it desperately, scrabbling to make his own damaged hand fit against it. “I’ve been hearing about him. I hear everything in here. Everything about him, everything about you.”

Tears are leaking down his cheeks and Theon can’t stop them.

“He isn’t really Jon Snow, is he? And you aren’t really Theon Greyjoy.”

“I’m not … he isn’t…”

“Who are you?”

Theon knows, he  _ knows _ he’s Theon Greyjoy. But he also knows that if he says that while looking at Ramsay’s eyes he’ll have a panic attack on the spot. “R-reek. I’m Reek.”

He wasn’t expecting the strange backwash of relief as he said the words. Ramsay’s fist uncurls and Theon presses his hand harder against the plexiglass, wishing he could feel the hot sweaty skin against his. “Reek … your Reek … rhymes with weak, rhymes with freak…”

The mantra gets his breathing under control. He can feel his heart rate slowing, the world uncurling into something like calm. His counselor doesn’t like it, and he tries not to do it too much, but it’s the best coping mechanism he  _ has _ for a panic attack. It works. 

“My Reek…” Ramsay sounds almost as relieved as he feels. “And what have you bought me, my Reek?”

“N-nothing Rams, I-I’m sorry I didn’t think to-”

“You didn’t think. Because you’re stupid, Reek.” Ramsay gives a sigh, shaking his head and gently scratching his fingers against the glass. Reek follows the moves with the fingers he has left, matching it in time to Ramsay. “Next time, you’ll bring me something.”

“Um … what?”

Ramsay rolls his eyes, lowering his voice. “Drugs, Reek? Maybe a shiv. Mobile phone if you can find one that’ll fit up your arse.”

“Oh…” Of course. It sounds so obvious now. He’s coming to a prison, so he should smuggle something in. The more things he brings Ramsay, the easier Ramsay will find it to survive inside. “H-how should I … how will you get it out?”

“I’ll send the right guard.” Ramsay gives a low laugh. “If you’re a good boy, Reek, you might even get a conjugal visit, hmm? Would you like that? Then I can reach inside you myself and drag it out…”

No, he would not like that. The very thought of Ramsay’s hands all over him, pawing him painfully open and making him scream, sets him panicking again. There are so many punishments he’ll need to take, for every single thing he’s done since Ramsay’s arrest, and those are things Ramsay can only do in person. He’s done so many things wrong, so many things he shouldn’t.

“Don’t let me down, Reek.” Ramsay murmurs against the glass.

Reek. He whispers it, and repeats it twice more. It helps more than any single other thing he’s been taught to do. When he looks up at Ramsay, he knows why. He’s broken now, a lost and damaged thing. Nothing Jon Snow says, no advice his counselor tries, will ever be of any use. Only Ramsay knows how to work Reek. In a strange hideous way, Ramsay is right - he can’t  _ be _ Theon any more, he doesn’t know how. Whenever he walks, he feels like a dangling puppet, trying to move it’s own strings. A patchwork monster, hideously constructed around an empty shell from half-remembered snippets of Theon Greyjoy’s life.

“I’ll be good.” Reek whispers back, heart skittering in hope as Ramsay’s face softens. “I’ll be good for you Rams, your Reek. I-I’ll find a phone. I’ll bring it.” 

“Wrap it up really well.” Ramsay warns.

“I will. I promise.”

Behind them, the guard clears his throat. The other visitors start wrapping up their conversations and some of the women start to cry. Ramsay drops his voice even further. “I don’t want to punish you Reek, but you have to remember. I can’t have you forgetting who you are over the next few weeks, do you understand?”

“Yes…” Reek’s head bobs nervously. 

“The guard behind me. He’s the one. He’s going to take you aside and punish you now, Reek. I want you to be thinking of me, can you do that? Next time you visit, he’ll take what you’ve brought me.”

Reek nods. He jumps as he feels a hand on his shoulder, but it’s only Jon Snow, who probably isn’t Jon Snow anymore. 

“Come on Theon.”

Reek frowns a little in confusion, then glances as Ramsay, who nods. He can pretend for Jon, as long as he doesn’t forget who he really is. It’s so much easier to pretend to be Theon than it is to actually  be Theon. Reek feels his eyes tear up in gratitude to Ramsay for making things that much easier for him. He almost welcomes the punishment. It’ll hurt he knows, but the sting of the hurt will stay with him and force him to remember over the long empty weeks ahead.

Ramsay watches him leave, then turns to the guard and gives a small nod. “Yeah. Search him. Turn him inside out. Make it hurt.”

The guard nods. “Which one, the skinny one or the grumpy one?”

Ramsay’s smile widens. “Both.”

**Author's Note:**

> The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,  
> For well he knew, the silly fly would soon come back again:  
> So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner, sly,  
> And set his table ready, to dine upon the fly.


End file.
